


All Our Days

by the_jennster



Series: All Our Days [4]
Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Art, Babysitting, Book 2: Crooked Kingdom Spoilers, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Grishaverse Big Bang 2019, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Near Future, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_jennster/pseuds/the_jennster
Summary: “Jes, why would you give her your guns?” Wylan said, exasperated as he leaned against the doorframe.Jepser scoffed. “I’m not stupid, I didn’t give a three-year-old—” His hand wandered down to his holster, face paling when there was no pearl handle for it to rest on.A sharp bang echoed through the country house and Wylan flinched, grimacing.“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he told him with a smile.The story in which Jesper and Wylan begin to care for and eventually adopt Alys’ daughter, with some humorous help from another Crow.WRITTEN FOR THE GRISHAVERSE BIG BANG 2019
Relationships: Alys Van Eck & Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Marya Hendriks & Wylan Van Eck
Series: All Our Days [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444876
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	All Our Days

**Author's Note:**

> Wow...  
> Just _wow_.  
> A little over a year ago now, I read Six of Crows for the first time and wrote a small fanfiction based off of flashes of ideas about what the Crows would get up in their hopefully happy futures.  
> This story is one of those flashes, brought to its full potential thanks to the Grishaverse Big Bang and my wonderful team. So thank you to [Dan](https://deadbutwhatsnew.tumblr.com/), [Joyce](https://isabellamcullen.tumblr.com/), and [Aditi](https://crookedthorns.tumblr.com/) for editing my writing, and [Julia](https://juliasfanart.tumblr.com/post/189978287085/blissful-sleep-ive-been-pleased-to-partecipate-in), [Maddie](https://maddie-cassie.tumblr.com/post/189979918863/okay-so-heres-a-piece-from-me-for), [Juliet](https://jellyribbons.tumblr.com/post/189980673314/all-our-days-link-jes-why-would-you-give-her), and [Alex](https://czterysta.tumblr.com/post/189995788774/this-is-my-illustration-for-the-fic-all-our-days) for bringing this story to life with your incredible art skills!

It was a normal morning in Ketterdam, though it still felt strangely foreign to Jesper Fahey. Nearly four years since the chaos of the Ice Court, and he still wasn’t used to waking up with light streaming through a window one could actually see out of. He still wasn’t used to waking up in a bed softer than anything he could’ve ever imagined, and he still wasn’t used to waking up with Wylan Van Eck in his arms.

The boy hummed when Jesper stirred, though “boy” could barely describe him now. Four years and he was nearing nineteen, growing into longer limbs, though they held no match for Jesper’s own, and angles that stole away the softness that had gotten him in so much trouble.

Jesper ran his fingers through the ruddy curls he loved so much, pressing his lips to the back of Wylan’s head as he watched the sunrise over the city. So strange it was to wake up without a sense of panic, without wondering where he was or who he was with, without worrying over whether he’d live through the day. Ironic as it was, the mercher’s life had gotten to him, softening him and slowing him down. No longer did he leap from bed, ready to start a fight before his guns had even warmed. No, instead he hovered on the edge of sleep, taking in the gaudy room around him and breathing in the particular smell of Wylan that he inexplicably loved so much.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted his reverie and he waited a moment for Wylan’s response, which was barely a groan as he rolled deeper into the blankets, before carefully untangling himself from the sheets.

He opened the door and immediately leaned against the doorframe, the servant’s eyes staying carefully on him instead of drifting further into the bedroom, a lesson well-learned several years before.

“A letter from Miss Alys,” she explained, holding out a piece of parchment. Jesper glanced behind him, at Wylan soundly sleeping in their bed, curls like a sunrise against the pillows, and smiled.

“I’ll give it to him later.” The servant smiled and handed him the letter, leaving them to their morning routine, which mostly consisted of taking as long as humanly possible to detach themselves from the bed, whether it be because they wanted sleep or… other things.

He settled onto the edge of the bed, leaning back on Wylan’s side just enough to make him squirm. He groaned, rolling onto his back and opening his eyes halfway.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbled, yawning before the words had even finished.

“Got a letter, from Alys,” Jesper explained, and Wylan hummed, stretching his arms above his head slowly, almost like a cat too comfortable to move from its spot in the sun.

“Read it to me?” Even if it hadn’t been Jesper’s job to read to Wylan, as well as keep the books and advise on financial decisions, ironically enough, he couldn’t imagine saying no to that face. Groggy and freckled and too tired to be sheepish about just how beautiful he really was. Jesper nodded and cleared his throat.

_“Dear Wylan, I am ever-thankful of you and your mothers’ allowance of me to stay in the country house all these years. I know we were never close, but it truly means a lot to me. Hopefully, I will not have to encroach on your kindness much longer, as Bajan has been able to find work in the Southern Colonies. While he is there, he had hoped that I could go with him as to find us a place to live, and we both agreed that it would be far too difficult for Yara to join us on the voyage. Seeing as she is your sister, I was wondering if you could perhaps come and care for her while we are away. We plan to leave the first week of the month, so a return in correspondence before than would be wonderful. Sincerely, Alys.”_

Wylan groaned again, grabbing Jesper’s arm and pulling him down to the bed. “We’ll write her back later.”

Jesper let him, resisting the urge to fall back asleep right there on Wylan’s chest. “So, you want to babysit?”

“After everything my father put her through, it’s the least I can do.”

* * *

“I’m so grateful,” Alys told them, clasping Wylan’s hands between her own. “I was so worried we’d have to send Yara to a care home, and I would’ve hated to do that to her.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Wylan insisted. “It’s the least we can do.”

Alys dropped Wylan’s hands and handed the bag at her feet off to a servant, already struggling beneath a pile taller than they were. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re bringing the servants with us. It’ll just be so much easier to manage with a few extra sets of hands.”

A brief look of panic flew across Jesper’s face at that, but Wylan just smiled and picked up a small box that fell off of the servants’ tower. “Really, we’ll be fine.” He smiled and handed the box to another servant, this one whose arms were laden with coats. She did know they were going to the _Southern_ Colonies, right?. “How much trouble can a three-year-old be?”

As soon as he spoke the words, a miniature blur darted out of the sprawling country house, latching onto Alys’ leg and knocking her into the servant, who promptly stumbled and dropped the coats onto the dirt drive.

“Mama!” the blur cried, strawberry blonde braids swinging as she looked around eagerly.

“Yara, darlin!” Alys said, hoisting the child up onto her hip, ignoring the servant on their knees next to her. “You remember Wylan, right?”

“Wy!” She grinned, reaching out for the boy in question, who smiled and let her chubby fingers wrap around his own.

“Wylan and his friend are going to be taking care of you this week.” Wylan’s smile faltered, but he nodded.

“Yup,” he echoed halfheartedly. Despite the rampant rumors and speculations about the nature of his and Jesper’s relationship, they’d never really meant to hide it. They’re already succeeded at shaking up the cultural norms of mercher circles and the thought of being secretive had never crossed their minds. Somehow, the news had never reached Alys that Jesper was a bit more than his “friend”.

Jes caught his eye and winked, nudging his shoulder as Alys busied herself with tittering to her daughter. Bajan exited the house, looking thoroughly exhausted but relieved when he saw the girl, and placed the key to the house in Jesper’s hand.

“No matter what you do,” he warned. “ _Never_ let her out of your sight.”

“Yes, sir.” Jesper pocketed the key as Yara was gently placed in Wylan’s waiting arms.

“Be good, darling,” Alys told her, placing a kiss on her cheek before hugging Wylan and giving Jesper an appreciative nod. “See you in a week.”

The first thing Yara did when her mother’s carriage disappeared over the horizon was wriggle out of Wylan’s arms. 

“Mama!” she cried, squirming and twisting until she broke free, leaping down onto the dirt path to take off at a breakneck speed.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jesper said, immediately reaching down and sweeping an arm around her waist. She giggled as he swept her up in her arms, tugging on his collar and suspenders. “So, what does the princess of the house like to do?”

Wylan couldn’t hide his smile. “Princess?”

“Princess!” Yara echoed, grinning from ear-to-ear. “The princess wants… Chocolate!” 

Jesper bounced her on his hip before sliding her back to the ground. “You think there’s some in the house?”

“Yeah!” And with that, she immediately ran inside, the crash of _something_ heard almost immediately.

“You’re good with her…” Wylan remarked, a little beacon of pride making its appearance in a constant smile.

Jesper only shrugged. “There were lots of little kids where I grew up and I was one of the older ones. Someone had to watch them during harvest season, and I had a few tricks up my sleeves.” He winked, plucking a flower from the edge of the drive and twisting a white spiral into the periwinkle petals. He tucked it behind Wylan’s ear and shoved his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, let’s take care of the princess.”

Wylan collapsed onto the bed and groaned, closing his eyes as Jesper chuckled and began to undress.

“I regret everything,” he complained. “You’re right, babysitting is horrible, let’s go home.”

Jesper laughed, crawling into bed next to him and kissing his shoulder. “Too late, sunshine, we’re here for the week.”

Wylan groaned again, leaning into Jesper’s touch and opening his eyes. “Why would you let me agree to this?”

He smiled, pushing Wylan’s hair back from his forehead and placing a kiss there. “You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then can we go back home?”

“No.”

“Ugh, liar.” Wylan pushed away with a smile, smacking his shoulder lightly.

“I know, I’m horrible,” Jesper said, smiling and just… looking at him. He was so beautiful here, red-cheeked from sunlight and a laze smile half-hidden by the blankets. It was one of those many and ever-increasing moments where he wished he could capture this moment, freeze it right here, and remember it. Remember it when he woke up hearing phantom gunshots, or missing his mother’s smile. Remember it when the mercher meetings bored him half to death or he itched for a fight in a dingy bar for no reason at all. Just to… Remember it. Because there was nothing more beautiful than _this_.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, as if someone was listening in and he dared not to let them hear it.

Wylan smiled, gorgeous and sheepish and even redder than before. “I love you too.”

* * *

The next morning started… suspiciously slowly.

The sun rose early, or so it seemed in the countryside, with no buildings or ships in the harbor to block out the horizon. There were no servants to cook them breakfast, and the house was silent enough to suspect that Yara was still sound asleep in her room. Slinging his holster around his hips out of habit, Jesper searched for the kitchen, finding it after what felt like an eternity of searching. It was a stout room that seemed to perpetually carry the scent of baking bread, and he traded his guns for an apron, pushing back his sleeves to look through the pantry and see what he could whip up.

It was hardly the first time he’d had to cook. He’d done it for Wylan back home for their anniversaries, and he’d even snuck into the Crow’s Club kitchens on a few rare occasions, usually resulting in Kaz confronting him the next day with an ever-suspicious “Were you _baking_ last night?” He always denied it, and then gave Inej some of his treats, earning her loyalty with startling ease. Home-cooked meals had been a _staple_ on the farm, something that had taken quite a long time to adjust to when he came to Ketterdam. The food at the university had been delicious and plentiful, and Kaz had never let the gang starve, but there was no match for his mother’s Lamington or his father’s fish pies. 

The country house’s pantry hardly had the ingredients for his family recipes, but he could manage. There were some bread loaves still soft enough to spread jam on, and he was certain that the basket by the kitchen door was for eggs. 

By the time Wylan, ever the late sleeper, found his way to the kitchen, the homey smell of freshly-crushed berries and cooking eggs filled the room. He’d also begun to make some bread dough, flour and yeast covering his bare arms as he kissed Wylan’s head and poked his nose, leaving a white dot of powder on his freckled face.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted. The nickname had evolved quickly and comfortably and it always made them both smile.

“It’s so early,” he complained, rubbing his eyes and not even noticing the splotch of flour on his nose. “When did you get up?”

Jesper shrugged. “Early enough to make breakfast.” _That_ seemed to wake Wylan up, the promise of a meal made from Jesper’s own skills. “Is Yara still sleeping?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Wylan muttered, cursing around a yawn. “I forgot to check.”

He smothered a chuckle and untied the apron from his waist. “I’ll go, make sure my eggs don’t burn.”

Wylan nodded groggily and took the apron when Jesper offered it, drifting to where the eggs scrambled over a low heat.

He climbed the stairs, listening carefully for the pitter-patter of curious little feet and arrived at Yara’s room, apparent from the drawings stuck to the walls around the door and toys spread across the floor. He cracked open the door, expecting to see her sound asleep in bed, but the sheets were pushed back and the room vacated entirely.

“Yara?” he asked, venturing in further in the hopes that she was only hiding or playing a game. No response, not even a suspicious giggle.

She couldn’t have gone far, right? She was three, how much trouble could she make this early in the day?

A crash downstairs answered his question relatively quickly.

He barely touched the floor as he ran, nearly colliding into Wylan, who no longer looked ready to fall back into bed.

“Jes, why would you give her your guns?” Wylan said, exasperated as he leaned against the doorframe.

Jepser scoffed. “I’m not stupid, I didn’t give a three-year-old—” His hand wandered down to his holster, face paling when there was no pearl handle for it to rest on.

A sharp bang echoed through the country house and Wylan flinched, grimacing.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he told him with a smile.

“Your face is stupid,” Yara said, grinning from ear to ear as she bounced and fidgeted on Jesper’s lap. It was a blessing he’d been the one to catch her, as there was no way in hell Wylan would’ve been able to match the energy this toddler had within her before the sun had reached its peak.

Jesper laughed despite the insult and leaned down, fake-whispering in her ear. “Y’know, I said something like that, and it made Wylan fall madly in love with me.”

“Blegh!” She shouted and squirmed some more, and, from the other room, Wylan shouted “Liar!”

“What was it then?” Jesper shouted back, already smiling.

There was a beat of silence, and then: “Hi.”

It took everything Jesper had not to fall out of his chair laughing.

This time, it was Jesper to drag Wylan onto the bed, catching him by the waist and collapsing onto the mattress, pressing kisses to his neck. 

“ _Hi_ ,” he repeated over and over, smiling like he’d won the house. “That was all it took, two letters, one syllable.”

Wylan squirmed in his arms, cherry-red and laughing. “You were attractive! What else was I supposed to do? I was too busy staring at your lips to remember the first thing you said to me.”

“Scandalous!” Jesper cried, trapping Wylan with a grin. “Mr. Van Eck, what _would_ the people say?”

“They’d say you had absolutely shitty fashion sense, because Ghezen knows how I fell for the guy walking around in fluorescent green and yellow. The designers would be _livid_.”

“I’ll have you know, lemon and lime are the _height_ of fashion in Novyi Zem!”

“Hmm, it probably is the height…” Jesper scoffed, rolling until he pinned Wylan beneath him, appreciating his laugh and his smile and the sparkle in those familiar eyes. _Ghezen_ , he could get lost in those eyes.

Wylan sighed. “How are we supposed to take care of her for the next week? She’ll disappear as soon as we look away.”

Jesper frowned, rolling over and onto his back, fiddling absentmindedly with Wylan’s delicate fingers. _Pianist’s fingers_ , he reminded himself, recalling the way the very same fingers flew over the keys of their piano at home.

“We _do_ have friends,” he suggested, half-jokingly.

Wylan snorted. “Kaz is the king of a criminal empire, Inej is off kicking slaver ass, and Nina’s been spying on enemy nations for Ravka. Our friends wouldn’t know the first thing about childcare.”

“Well, neither do we, and Alys clearly thought so.”

“Alys isn’t thinking most days,” he admitted, though he loved his step-mother. It was odd to think of her that way, with her only being a handful of years older than him and often acting far younger, but… For better or worse, she was family, as was Yara.

“Maybe we should summon Matthias’ grumpy ghost from beyond the grave with my shoddy flute-playing,” Jesper provided with a grin, earning a breath of a laugh.

“He’d certainly do better than we would.”

* * *

Early the next morning, before the sun had even begun to creep over the fields, Jesper composed a letter. It was brief, and stated only the facts.

_“Wylan and I are in desperate need of help. Come as soon as possible to the Van Eck country house.”_

The figure in the doorway cut an intimidating shadow, towering over the little child. She merely grinned, skipping forward and holding out a wildflower picked from the fields earlier in the day.

“Here!” she chirped, pressing the yellow bud into his palm. “It’s pretty!”

He brought the flower up to his nose, smelling it, and threading it carefully around the crow’s head knob of his cane.

“It is.”

“Kaz!” Wylan noticed the man as he walked by the entryway. “I didn’t realize you’d be here already!”

He shrugged. “I get around easily enough.”

“Yeah, well…” There was something halfway between a smile and a grimace on Wylan’s face. “Jesper and I have _kind of_ been struggling to wrangle Yara—” He gestured to the little girl smiling up at Kaz, handfuls of flowers spilling from her pockets. “And you were the only person we could think of.”

Kaz’s eyebrow quirked up— there was a new scar, just below it, and Wylan had half a mind to ask where he’d gotten it, but he figured it wasn’t a story for a child’s ears. “And you expect me to know how to deal with children?”

What Wylan _wanted_ to say was that they’d exhausted every other possible option; they’d considered sending out letters to Inej and Nina, but with Inej constantly on the open ocean and Nina over in Ravka, any communication with them would’ve taken weeks to even get there, let alone for them to travel here and help. Kaz had _certainly_ not been their best choice, as Wylan vividly remembered the night he’d crouched in front of that little girl and threatened the lives of her dogs, but he was the only one they could see being able to get out of Ketterdam for a day and help.

Instead, he said “You have a better chance than either of us.”

Kaz frowned. “I’m certain Jesper mentioned something about children at one point,” he muttered, but shed his coat all the same, hanging it by the door.

Wylan smiled, crouching down next to Yara. “This is Kaz. He’s gonna be helping Jes and I out today.”

Yara grinned and tucked a flower behind Wylan’s ear, a motion she’d seen Jesper do a number of times over the past few days. “Will he go pick flowers with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaz said, at the same time Wylan told her “Of course!”

Kaz scowled and Wylan just shrugged. “Jesper’s at the nearest town getting food for tonight, but he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“And what will you be doing?” 

Wylan sighed, running a hand through his curls. “ _Trying_ to clean up the mess she’s made. Unless you’d like to take that job?”

He huffed, leaning over his cane to see the little girl doing her damndest to braid her mismatched flowers around its base.

“I guess I’ll take the child.”

Kaz was quickly dragged out to the flower field behind the house, a splotch of bitter darkness against the colorful petals and brightening sunlight.

“This one is pink!” Yara babbled, adding it to the stack of nearly-identical plants in his waiting hands.

“It is,” he noted, a perpetual frown by no means loosening when she continued to name the obvious colors of the flowers she plucked, occasionally stopping to count the petals or observe a wayward insect.

“How do you know Wy? And my mama?” she asked at one point, oblivious to the weight of that question.

If he answered honestly, he would likely spend an eternity explaining Wylan’s complicated relationship with his father, the fact that he himself was a leader of a gang she knew nothing about, and that he’d kidnapped her mother for ransom after Inej had been taken in a job gone wrong.

“We worked together,” he answered simply.

“Wy and Jes say that you’re mean!” A ghost of a smile appeared at that. “You don’t seem very mean,” she noted, taking one of her many flowers and placing it on his head this time.

He leaned forward with a wicked grin. “I’m _horrible_.”

She just laughed, taking the flowers from his hands and dropping the bunch over his head. “You’re pretty!”

For some reason… He smiled at her silly words.

By the time the sun was setting over the horizon, Kaz’s hair still had flowers scattered in it, he had been subjected to numerous questions that he’d had no idea how to answer without subjecting a four-year-old to the complicated business he ran, and he’d been forced to limp after her to keep her from splashing into a river that had been deceptively shallow, to which he’d failed, and been dragged in himself, destroying these shoes beyond repair.

Yara only giggled as they walked back to the house, the smell of what seemed to be cooking fish coming from the sunken kitchen door. Wylan was seated on the steps, failing at his attempts to hide his grin.

“You look like you had fun,” he remarked, catching Yara as she leapt at him and nearly knocked him down.

Kaz merely grumbled, vainly trying to brush the colorful petals from his hair.

“Food’s ready!” Jesper called from the kitchen, poking his head out of the door. His eyes lit up when he saw Kaz in his haphazard state, bursting out laughing. “Brekker, you look like a drowned cat.”

“A cat would’ve been preferable,” he muttered.

“Jes!” Yara crawled down from Wylan’s arms, unwrapping a purple flower from around the head of Kaz’s cane and handing it to him. “I picked this one for you!”

“And you picked every other one for Kaz?” he asked with a grin.

“He’s pretty now!” she chirped, and both boys laughed.

“He is,” Jesper echoed with a wink, opening the door to let her in. She disappeared into the house, clearly chasing the elusive smell of a home-cooked meal, and Wylan followed her, shaking his head.

“Yara, wash your hands!” he chastised, vanishing into the depths of the house.

“Staying to eat?” Jesper asked Kaz. “I certainly made enough.”

Kaz considered the offer for a moment, but shook his head. “A full day away from the city is too much of a risk. Inej has found a Grisha trafficking company that she hopes to sort out, and I have some of my men keeping an eye out around the city. I planned to send her more information in the morning.”

Jesper nodded. “You ever get tired of it?” he asked. “Fighting battles every day?”

Kaz frowned. “Do you get tired of this?” He gestured to the house and Jesper smiled.

Yara’s giggles echoed from the house and he could hear Wylan’s exasperated-yet-adoring voice asking her to sit down.

“No…” he told him. “I don’t think I do.”

Kaz regarded him, his old ally, his sharpshooter. An apron took the place of his gun holster and the smell of herbs and chicken followed him instead of gunpowder and blood. Though he fidgeted, there was no trace of the same itch that Kaz had shamelessly used to his own advantage all those years ago.

And there was a smile. Not a smirk, but a sincere, contented smile.

“Send me a letter when you get back to the city,” Kaz requested. “I’d like to come and visit.”

Jesper laughed a little and nodded in agreement. “Will do.” He left for a moment and returned with Kaz’s coat, as well as a pair of flowers braided together.

“Thank you,” he told him. 

“A debt repaid,” he merely said, shrugging on his coat and running a hand through his hair to brush out the last of the flowers. “Enjoy your dinner.”

* * *

Yara cocked her head to the side, watching curiously as Jesper polished the guns he loved so very much. She twiddled her feet, sharp eyes landing on Wylan as he drifted behind the chair and pressed a kiss to Jesper’s head, the other boy leaning his head back over the chair and smiling cheekily.

“Missed,” he chimed with a smile, causing Wylan to roll his eyes and lean down to kiss his lips, an amused smile all the while.

The little girl had seen things like this before. Mama had taken her to the city a few times, and it had been very _loud_. There were a lot of people, and a lot of noise, and a lot of people saying “She’s so adorable!”

But there were also a lot of people whispering. About Mama, about Wy, about how they were both gullible fools and likely to run off with the first man they met, how that man would then run off with the Van Eck fortune and they’d be utterly destitute.

Jesper didn’t seem like that though…

“Are you two gonna get married?” she asked, and Wylan’s cheeks turned cherry red. “Is Jesper gonna take your money?” The redness faded and he gaped a bit.

Jesper only laughed and reached down, pulling her into his lap. “No, he’s gonna take _my_ money. My da’s a jurda farmer, lotsa money in that.” Wylan scoffed.

* * *

“Jesper?” Wylan asked, slipping in through the front door as quietly as he could. It was late, and judging from the silence throughout the house, he’d succeeded in getting Yara to bed, but he’d half-expected for Jesper to be waiting for him when he was done.

There was no answer, and he ignored the bundle of nerves growing in his stomach at the thought that something was wrong— _he’s fine, he’s safe, no one here wants to hurt you, either of you_. Just to be safe, he checked every room, finding them vacant but a little haphazard, as the house had come to be in the wake of Yara’s chaos. Steadying his shaking breath, he checked Yara’s room last save for his and Jesper’s own.

His relief was instantaneous.

There, sleeping soundly in a rocking chair, Yara clinging to his chest, was Jesper. A book was held open over his knee and his hand was gently cradling her back, head tilted back against the chair. The book’s cover was familiar, a drawing Wylan remembered vividly from his own childhood, a story his own mother would read to him at night, and every ounce of worry drained from his body completely.

Carefully and quietly, he crept to their side, smiling as he placed a gentle kiss on Yara’s forehead, and then a brief one on Jesper’s lips. Jesper hummed, stirring and instinctively keeping a steady grip on the toddler as he moved.

“Wy?” he asked sleepily, cracking open his eyes.

Wylan smiled. “You got her to sleep.”

Jesper shrugged, as minisculely as he could with a three-year-old in his arms. “Just had to read her a story. You’re the same.”

“Ha ha.” Jesper’s eyes fluttered closed rather quickly and Wylan smiled, taking the blanket from Yara’s bed and draping it over the pair. He’d fallen asleep with his mother like that too many times to even remember them all. Despite the rumors, despite his father’s insistence that she wasn’t quite sane, she was the most loving and caring person he’d ever known. She was warm and her smile was so comforting, it could chase away the clouds in the sky. She’d never once shamed him for the fact that he couldn’t read, only patiently reading to him and occasionally asking him what the next word was. Sometimes he was right, and that was how he learned to decode the few words he _did_ recognize. It couldn’t have been easy, not with his father breathing down his neck and pushing him to learn what he simply _couldn’t_.

She would be able to take care of Yara easily compared to what she went through at his father’s hands.

She… she would know how to take care of her.

Resisting the urge to shout, he slipped from the room, ecstatic to have found someone who would be able to help them wrangle the wild child that was Yara Van Eck.

 _His mother_. She’d been spending the past few years outside of the city, in a town not too far from here, in fact. It had a wonderful arts district and none of the toxic rumors that grew along the canals like weeds. 

He’d have to tell Jesper in the morning, when he could draft up a letter. Or better yet, he could go and visit her himself! The business had kept him so busy the past few months that he hadn’t been able to slip away for even a brief vacation. It would be a perfect excuse to visit her, and he didn’t even think she’d met Yara. Not that… she really had _reason_ to. Her ex-husband’s daughter likely wasn’t on the top of her list of people to meet, but _surely_ she’d find the little girl endearing and a reminder of Wylan himself in his younger years— though he hoped he wasn’t so exhausting to care for. He’d really only sat and painted with his mother and played music, hadn’t he?

Jesper’s only complaint in regards to Wylan’s plan was that it left him alone to care for Yara while he was gone, though it was hardly a complaint and more of a slightly-exhausted, slightly-endeared “Ah, darn, I’ll have her all to myself,” followed by Yara’s own excited giggling as he dragged him into her playroom.

He’d left as soon as he could, arriving in the town where his mother lived in under an hour. It was picturesque, with buildings modeled after those of Ketterdam on a much smaller scale, giving the familiar feeling of home without the same intimidating cut of the Watchtowers on the horizon or constant anxiety that accompanied the shadows of the Barrel. There was no salty scent of sea air, instead the charming fragrance of flowers. He could see his mother’s draw to this place, home without the memories, but something in him felt a little lost without the hidden promise of danger. Those years on the Ketterdam streets, running with the Dregs and working alongside criminals, they’d shaped him. He understood, now, Jesper’s ever-present draw to the deadly, his thrill of the fight. There was a certain assurance to it, a certain _something_ that made him miss the schemes and shoot-outs.

Jesper gave him that, he realized with a smile. He’d mellowed over the years, but compared to the life he’d known before, Jesper was a taste of that wild side. _It’s one reason I love him_ , he thought to himself, stepping up to the house his mother had described in many a correspondence, urging him to visit.

He hesitated only a moment before knocking.

A woman slightly shorter than him opened the door, faded red hair threaded with gray and drawn into a braid, paint splattered over an apron tied around her waist.

She’d aged gracefully, despite what she’d gone through.

“Mother,” he greeted, hugging her tightly.

“Wylan!” Her grip was frail, but she pressed him closer nonetheless. “You’re so tall!” she cried, stepping back to take him in. He chuckled lightly, not used to feeling particularly tall when placed next to Jesper or any of the older men in his merchant’s meetings. “Come in, come in,” she encouraged, stepping aside and ushering him through the door.

Her home wasn’t particularly large, though Wylan had offered to pay for whatever accommodations she’d wished. It was… Homey, comfortable. Paintings lined the walls, some of him when he was younger, others of flower fields, and still others of the very streets he’d walked to get here. She led him into the kitchen and poured him a cup of tea from a steaming pot, sitting down across from him with a slightly-pained grimace and smiling.

“I was wondering when you’d find the time to visit,” she told him, sipping from her own cup.

“Business has been… Busy,” he admitted, almost guiltily. The words were not unlike those of his father’s, the excuse to avoid him until he’d turned to outright abuse.

“I understand.” She waved it off. “I remember all of those mindless meetings. I do not pity you for the job you’ve taken.” 

“Jesper and I are actually on a quick vacation right now,” he told her. “We’re staying at the country house… Watching Yara.”

Her eyebrows quirked. “Ah, yes, you mentioned her. Her mother is Alys?” As if his father had married any other girls young enough to be his daughter.

“Yes, Alys is in the Southern Colonies for the week and asked us to look after her.”

“And how is that going?” She seemed a little amused by the idea of her son, quiet and cautious as he was, taking care of a child that has only been described to her as “befitting of ruining the Van Eck name like her brother.”

Wylan considered his works. “She’s a handful.”

Marya smiled. “You were no easy child yourself, dear.”

“The reading thing—”

“ _No_ ,” she insisted, a nostalgic smile growing on her face as she leaned back in her chair. “You were curious. Inquisitive. Before your reading problems arose, you were always asking your father questions. ‘What are you doing?’, ‘What does that do?’, ‘Why do we do this?’, ‘How does that work?’.” She chuckled. “You drove him mad, asking about every little thing.”

Wylan couldn’t help but smile, despite the fact that he couldn’t remember anything save for his father’s cruelty. “Yara is… Decidedly more energetic. We keep the outward doors locked in the evening to make sure she doesn’t run out unexpectedly.”

Marya laughed. “Wait until she’s older. Maybe she’ll run off and save the country.” Her eyes glittered with humor and Wylan turned red, regretting his decision to regale her with the elaborate schemes he’d helped to concoct.

“We didn’t save Kerch. We just… Saved ourselves.”

She hummed. “Just as noble, I’d say.”

“Well, Mother, I was— I was hoping to ask you a favor,” he pressed, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop.

“You want my help with the girl?” She flashed a knowing smile.

“... _Yes_ ,” he conceded. “A three-year-old is somehow more difficult than rebuilding a business’ reputation.”

“Ah, I could’ve warned you of that,” she told him, rising from her seat. “Let me gather my things.”

The journey back to the house was almost calming. His mother watched the countryside roll by, occasionally telling him how she’d come out here to paint this field or that brook, occasionally smiling and telling him an anecdote from his childhood that blurred in his own memories. It made him miss her, strangely enough. It made him realize how much having her in his life meant to him. It was _nice_.

When they arrived, Jesper greeted them at the door.

“Ms. Hendriks,” he said, kissing her cheek, a motion Wylan had not-long-ago learned was customary symbol of respect in Zemeni culture.

“Call me Marya,” she requested, hugging him. On the few occasions that they’d had to visit her, she’d greeted Jesper like a son, which had relieved Wylan to no end. Jesper and his mother were likely the most important people in his life, with the rest of the Dregs not far behind, and the thought of them not getting along had filled him with horrid anxiety.

“Wy!” Yara shouted, barreling down the stairs and attaching herself to Wylan’s legs, as if he’d been gone for days rather than hours.

“You must be Yara.” Marya crouched, smiling at the toddler gripping her son’s pant legs like a lifeline. “I’m _Oma_ Marya.”

“Hi!” Yara shook Marya’s hand eagerly. 

“And how old are you, _engletje_?”

“I’m this many!” She told her, holding up three fingers proudly.

“So grown-up!” Marya explained and Yara grinned.

“ _Engletje_ , I have a very important task for you!” Marya said, hands hidden behind her back.

“What? What? What?” Yara asked eagerly, bouncing up and down.

“I need you…” She whipped out a stack of papers. “To draw with me!”

Yara giggled, taking a handful of the papers and running off to a stout table that Marya had already filled with pots of paints, placed, of course, over a covering of papers and cloth that reached to the floor, which seemed to come in handy almost immediately as Yara immediately dripped smatterings of blue.

“How…” Wylan whispered, watching in awe as Yara painted, perfectly satisfied.

His mother smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. “She’s a child. She’s curious and messy. You learn to adapt to her needs.”

“Oops!” Yara said with a little laugh as green dribbled down the front of her dress.

“You also learn to clean,” she added, immediately grabbing a towel she had on hand and wiping it down the laughing toddler.

“That tickles, _Oma_!”

“Your mother is a witch,” Jesper decided, shaking his head.

“Wy,” Yara whispered as he tucked her into bed. “I miss Mama.”

“She’ll be home soon,” he told her with a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Only a couple more days.”

Her lip quivered, blue eyes watering. “I— I miss Mama.” She began to cry, repeating the sentence louder and louder.

“Shh, shh, darling,” he said, trying to appease her, but her cries only grew louder. “Jes!” he ultimately shouted. “Mother!”

Marya was the first to the toddler’s room.

“ _Engletje_ ,” she murmured, immediately hoisting Yara onto her hip with only the slightest of grimaces. Her whining reached a fever pitch, tears turning the older woman’s nightgown darker. She rubbed the girl’s back tenderly, whispering something in her ear, but Wylan couldn’t hear, _chose_ not to hear.

Instead, he drifted back to the doorway, steeling himself and holding back tears. Jesper slipped up behind him, resting a careful, comforting hand on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“I can’t do this,” Wylan muttered, slipping from his familiar grip and starting the brief walk to their borrowed room. Jesper followed, concern written all-too-clearly across his face.

“She just misses Alys, Wy, it’s not the end of the world,” he told him.

“Do you know what my father used to do whenever I started crying?”

“You’re not him—”

“Do you know what he _did_ , Jes?” Wylan snapped, almost shouting.

Jesper remained silent, lips pursed as Wylan paced the width of the hall.

“He would pass me off to the nearest servant and come back when I’d finished to tell me that Van Eck men didn’t cry,” he explained, throat bobbing. “He would just _push me aside_ . And that is _exactly_ what I did to Yara.”

“It’s not your fault you didn’t know what to do,” Jesper tried to tell him, reaching out, but Wylan only carded a hand through his curls, shaking as it went.

“I told myself I wouldn’t be like him,” he muttered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I told myself I could be _better_.”

“You _are_ better, Wylan.” He grabbed his arm, pulling it away from his face and gingerly wiping away the tears. “You are not your father.” Wylan shook his head, but Jesper only forced their gazes to meet. “Look at me, you are _not_ your father. You know how I know?”

Wylan’s watery eyes held his. “How?” he whispered.

“Because your father was cruel and heartless and didn’t bat an eye when he thought you could be dead,” Jesper told him. “And if these past few days have told me _anything_ , it’s that there isn’t a single thing in this world you wouldn’t do for that little girl in there.” He smiled a small smile, brushing Wylan’s bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It is _not_ your fault that you didn’t know what to do, because _neither of us_ know what we’re doing. But we’re learning as we go.”

Wylan let out a shaky sigh, sinking into Jesper’s arms and letting his forehead rest against his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Anything for you, sunshine.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Marya slipped from the toddler’s room, a weary smile on her face.

“She’s calmed,” she reported. “But far from returning to bed. Mayhaps one of you will tell her a story?” Her eyes flicked between the two young men and Jesper raised his hand.

“I’ll do it, I have just the tale.” 

Wylan nodded.“Yeah, I— I need to go to bed,” he said, still clearly tense. Marya smiled sadly and kissed her son’s forehead.

“Well then, sleep well, darling,” she told him, drifting down the hall to her own temporary bedroom.

Before Wylan could turn and enter their room, Jesper performed an overdramatic bow, taking Wylan’s hand and kissing it with a mischievous wink. “I shall return shortly, sunshine.”

Wylan just rolled his eyes with a smile and stepped forward to kiss him briefly. “Love you,” he whispered, and then slipped inside.

Yara was curled up on her bed, hugging her knees with tear-reddened eyes. She glanced up when Jesper entered and he knew immediately that something was wrong when she forwent her usual squeal and attack on his knees.

He settled onto the side of her bed, brushing a lock of near-blonde hair behind her ear and cocking his head.

“You miss your mama?” he asked quietly, earning a sniffle and a hesitant nod. “I miss my mama too.” Yara looked up and met his gray eyes with a small squint.

“What happened to _your_ mama?” Her grip on her knees loosened, ever so slightly.

Jesper smiled sadly. “She got sick,” he explained, running an absentminded finger over the floral embroidery of Yara’s bedquilt. “She liked to help people, and someone asked her to help take care of their little girl, make her feel better. My da begged her not to go, but…” He chuckled. “She could never walk away from a person in need.” He looked up and met Yara’s eyes. “But she’s not _really_ gone, Yara.”

The little girl frowned. “You can’t see her, though. And she can’t give you a hug or kiss you or tuck you in at night or— or even tell you to stop running around.”

Jesper slid a little closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Just because I can’t see her doesn’t mean she’s not here. And just because you can’t see _your_ mama right now doesn’t mean she’s not here. You know how I know?” He smiled, and Yara looked up at him curiously.

“How?”

“Because she’s right here.” He prodded the center of Yara’s chest, mirroring the action on himself. “Everyone you love, everyone you’ll _ever_ love, will always be right here. _Because_ you love them.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “And in the meantime, you have me and Wylan to hug you and kiss you and tuck you in at night and tell you to stop running around,” he told her with a grin. “Though Wylan will mostly be doing the last one.”

She giggled, nestling into his side and sighing, smile fading a little. “Is my mama coming back?”

“Of course she is. No one in their right mind would ever leave you.”

Jesper climbed into bed hours later, having been commandeered as Yara’s cuddling item of choice for the night, and she _finally_ drifted off to the point where he could carefully extricate her from his torso. He was so tired, he almost didn’t notice that Wylan wasn’t in the bed with him. Almost.

“Wy?” he asked, sitting up and looking around the room, hovering by the window. “Come back to bed.”

“Not tired,” Wylan dismissed, turning around to flash a smile and betraying the heavy shadows under his eyes. 

“Wylan, sunshine, love of my life, light of my world,” Jesper said, reaching out a lazy hand in his lover’s direction. “Go the fuck to sleep.” Wylan let out a small laugh, crawling into bed and leaning his head on Jesper’s shoulder.

“I’m still not tired,” he muttered, breathing in Jesper’s familiar scent.

“You haven’t been tired most of these nights. I think I only saw you sleep that first one.”

Wylan only shrugged in his defense.

“At least _try_ to get some sleep. Keep this up, and a strong wind will blow you over.”

“What if Yara needs me?” he asked quietly.

“Then I’ll wake you up.” Jesper wrapped an arm around him, not-so-subtly trying to drag him under the bedcovers. “You haven’t slept in at _least_ two nights, you really need to.”

“But Yara—”

“Is _fine_. She’s asleep, and both your mother and I are here. You need to sleep.”

Wylan groaned, eyes fluttering closed already.

“You’ll wake me if she needs anything, right?”

“Of course,” Jesper lied.

It was the picture of the perfect afternoon. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, Yara was (relatively) calm for once. Marya bounced the toddler on her lap as Wylan plucked at the piano keys, playing a lilting melody. Jesper spun into the room like a whirlwind, scooping Yara up into his arms with a wild grin.

“Play us a jig, maestro!” he ordered and Wylan laughed, picking up the tempo. Jesper twirled around the room, Yara giggling in his arms. He started to sing nonsense, slipping both Kaelish and Zemeni words in.

The energy was contagious and Marya began to clap along, laughing when Jesper dropped Yara to the ground suddenly, eliciting a shriek from the girl as he lined her feet up with his, dancing her around the room. 

“Wy’s turn, Wy’s turn!” Yara encouraged.

“Yes!” Jesper agreed, swinging her into Marya’s arms before turning to the piano.

“What? No!” Wylan cried, but he was tugged from the bench and into Jesper’s arms, spun around the room with only his mother’s clapping beat for music, but it didn’t really seem to matter, because Jesper’s smile was infectious and the room was spinning in the best of ways and Wylan would swear he never felt happier.

Marya had left the night before, their bags were packed, and Yara was hanging onto their arms, adamantly begging them not to leave. The week was over and Wylan and Jesper were due to return to Ketterdam by the afternoon, prepared to leave as soon as Alys returned.

When a carriage rumbled to a stop in the drive, there was a sigh of relief. While the week in the country had been a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam and Yara had wormed her way into the hearts, their lives were in the city.

When an unfamiliar man stepped out, the tension returned.

“Mr. Van Eck?” he asked, brandishing a letter.

“That would be me.” Wylan stepped forward and took it with a terse smile. The man tipped his hat and climbed back into his carriage, but his departure was ignored in favor of Wylan tearing open the letter and glaring at the cryptic words in earnest.

Jesper leaned over his shoulder, reading aloud.

_“Dear Wylan, I am eternally thankful for you and Jesper caring for Yara this past week. Bajan and I have faced unexpected difficulties in making our lives in the Southern Colonies and have found our stay extended for an indefinite period of time. I cannot take the risk of returning to Kerch with our assets in their current state and sincerely apologize, but I can only hope that you will find Yara to not be a burden until we can return. Again, I wholly apologize for the unexpected turn of events and hope you can forgive us. Sincerely, Alys.”_

Wylan just continued to stare at the letter, eyes searching. “She’s not coming back,” he whispered.

“She’ll be back… Eventually,” Jesper reasoned, forcing an encouraging smile as Yara tugged on his arm.

“No, no, I just—” Wylan sighed, crumpling the paper in his hand. “There have been rumors in the city since Yara was _born_ . Alys never expected to have to take care of a kid and everyone said she’d get rid of it the first chance she got. This... This was her plan. Get us to take care of her for a week thinking she’ll be back and then leave the country altogether! _She’s not coming back!_ ”

“Breathe,” Jesper told him, a comforting hand on his shoulder as they each took a deep breath. “We’ll figure something out, Wy. We’ve been in worse scrapes.”

Wylan pressed his palms to his eyes, taking deep breaths and pacing. “What do we _do_? We have to go home, we have to take care of the business.”

“We take her with us,” Jesper proposed. “We figure it out as we go.”

He froze. “Can we _do that_?”

Jesper shrugged. “You’re her next-of-kin, I doubt there would be a lot of arguments about the validity of her living with you.”

“No, I mean…” Wylan turned to face him, desperation and anxiety written over his face. “Can we _raise her?_ Can we… Can we be _fathers?_ I— What if I end up like my father?”

“You are not your father, Wylan,” Jesper assured him, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing his cheek. “You are so, _so_ much better. And—” He laughed. “We’re gonna be _amazing_ fathers. And, worst comes to worst, we end up sending her to live with Marya. Your mother handled her like a _pro_ , and if what she taught us doesn’t pan out…” His words drifted off with a soft smile. “We’re her family, Wylan. We love her. We’ll be here for her, no matter what.”

Wylan’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a shaking sigh. “You’re right.”

Jesper’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Aren’t I always, sunshine?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, glancing down at Yara, who had since resorted to drawing in the dirt of the drive with her shoe. She looked up, cocking her head.

“Where’s Mama?” she asked.

Wylan smiled sadly, crouching to meet her eyes as he ruffled her hair. “She’s gonna be gone a little longer, darling.” Yara frowned.

“How would you like to go to the city?” Jesper asked with a smile. Her eyes lit up and Jesper leaned down to kiss her head. “Go pack a bag.”

“The city!” she shouted, standing on dirt-covered legs and running through the front door, already forgetting the fact that her mother wouldn’t be coming home.

Wylan heaved a sigh of relief, swallowing his ball of nerves.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Jesper only smiled and kissed him, fingertips drifting through his curls.

It turned out that integrating Yara into the daily lives had been a lot easier than expected. They’d never taken the time to clear out the room intended to be her nursery, so all that had really needed was a bed befitting her size and bringing her toys from the country house to replace the ones intended for her as a newborn. The servants had been shocked, and reasonably so, to see the eager child tumbling from Jesper’s hip as they walked through the front door, but they’d quickly adjusted, enjoying the extra energy Yara brought to the household.

“She reminds me of you,” one of the older servants told Wylan with a knowing smile as they watched Jesper dance around one of the gaudy staterooms with the toddler standing on his toes. 

“So I’ve been told,” Wylan said with a laugh.

Wylan pressed a kiss to Yara’s forehead and stepped away from her bed, but she grabbed his hand. Jesper was in their bedroom, drafting a letter to Kaz to explain the… situation, and so it was up to Wylan to put her to bed. He’d expected more resistance, but she must have been tired from the journey and adjustment to her new surroundings.

Now, however, when she looked up at him with groggy eyes, he wondered if she would gain her energy back.

“Yes, darling?” he asked, burying that jolt of panic.

“Tell me a bedtime story?” she asked.

He let out a sigh of relief and settled into a seat on her bed, searching his memory for a story.

His first idea was to tell her the story of the Ice Court, of traveling across the vast oceans to a frozen world, of a mismatched crew set against the odds for an impossible task, of schemes and plans, but he quickly realized that talk of mind-altering drugs and fake-murder plots weren’t the best thing to tell a child. Maybe when she was a bit older…

Now, however, he turned to a story he remembered hearing around the winter holidays every year.

“In the end, the clocksmith was to blame,” he began. “But Mr. and Mrs. Zelverhaus should not have let him into the house. This is the problem with lesser demons. They come to your doorstep in velvet coats and polished shoes. They tip their hats and smile and demonstrate good table manners. They never show you their tails.”

“Mr. Van Eck!” A short assistant caught up to Jesper as he left the mercher’s meeting, Wylan walking a few feet ahead as he animatedly talked to one of the other younger businessmen. “Mr. Van Eck…” she repeated, a little nervously when he didn’t respond.

“Oh, you’re— I thought you were calling for Wylan, we’re not— Jesper Fahey,” he stumbled through the introduction, so radically different from his usual greetings (a smile and a bullet, possibly a flirtatious line), and offered a hand for the assistant to shake. She reminded him of Inej, small (though, arguably, everyone was “small” to him) and lithe, with a poise and wisdom well-cultivated despite being not much older than he was.

“My apologies, with Mr. Van Eck talking about your daughter, I had only assumed the two of you were married.” He couldn’t help but smile, glancing forward as Wylan happened to look back and meet him with a grin. 

“Not there quite yet,” he admitted, fiddling with the pen he used to take notes during meetings, small smile on his lips.

“Ah, well, I was hoping I could talk to you about Mr. Van Eck’s financial plans…”

After a riveting discussion about stocks and bonds and trading values and a bunch of other nonsense that he understood completely but often pretended not to (usually because being a glorified accountant wasn’t as attractive as a dashing sharpshooter), he slid up to Wylan’s side, pressing his nose into the curls as he leaned over to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear.

“Our daughter?” he asked with a smile, reveling in the redness creeping up his neck.

“I figured it was a bit easier than explaining that we’d adopted my sister by my father’s child-bride while spending a week away in the country,” Wylan reasoned, leaning into the touch.

Jesper hummed. “You’re not wrong. But ‘ours.’” He smiled, imagining a lifetime of _ours_. “I could get used to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I have a couple one-shots in this little post-canon Wesper universe I've created, so if you're interested in reading those, you can check them out [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444876)  
> Again, another huge thank you to my gang and the Council of Tides for making this possible!  
> If you'd like to reblog any of the art from this fic, you can go to the artists' tumblrs!  
> Maddie - [Yara asking if Wylan and Jesper will get married-- With bonus drawing!](https://maddie-cassie.tumblr.com/post/189979918863/okay-so-heres-a-piece-from-me-for)  
> Julia - [Blissful Sleep](https://juliasfanart.tumblr.com/post/189978287085/blissful-sleep-ive-been-pleased-to-partecipate-in)  
> Juliet - ["You're lucky you're pretty"](https://jellyribbons.tumblr.com/post/189980673314/all-our-days-link-jes-why-would-you-give-her)  
> Alex - Kaz and Yara


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